


Dance For Me Baby

by lets boogie boys (CelestialStyles)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Prob some violence later, Protective!Shane, Ryan has kind of a bad past, Ryan’s stripper name is Ricky Goldsworth, Shane is in some shady shit, Slow Burn, The stripper au no one asked for, idk man it’s weird, im so in love with this idea, it’s not actually that bad, jealous!Shane, lots of cigars, naturally, shane is loaded y’all, stripper!ryan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-04-14 06:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14129838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialStyles/pseuds/lets%20boogie%20boys
Summary: Ryan works at a well respected club and Shane loves to watch him dance.





	1. Chapter 1

The lights pulsed and trained themselves on Ryan as they illuminated the stage. Their heat created a thin sheen of sweat across his half-dressed figure giving him a sexy glow as the lights glistened off his skin. The hungry gaze of men and women alike traced his body up and down as he went through his set. It did wonders for his ego.

 

As his set ended he picked up the stray bills that somehow hadn’t made their way into his waistband, he suddenly felt a large hand slip a bill into his trousers, his hand lingering for a second too long, but that was nothing Ryan wasn’t used to. Before he could turn around to acknowledge the man he had all but disappeared, however, Ryan did catch a glimpse of someone who he didn’t recognize in a dark, fine tailored suit walking away. 

 

~

 

Back in his communal dressing room he hastily shoved the bills into his work bag, he never counted them at work. Most of the men working there did but he thought it felt too much like bragging to do it himself. 

 

Getting dressed in his regular clothes and clocking out he waved goodbye to the guys and walked out. He was lucky to work at Desert Rose, really, it was a well-respected club with expensive customers but he hated being in there too long. It’s not that he was ashamed but he didn’t want to wait around for some guy four times his size to start grabbing him when he wasn’t getting paid for it.

 

Even when he was getting paid for it, he just ran his set, worked the floor, went where his boss tells him too and left. The other guys often engaged in some… extracurriculars for a very generous chunk of change but that was never really Ryan’s thing. 

 

After film school he was so far in debt he never thought he’d find a way out. Desert Rose was nothing less than a saving grace. Working there hadn’t paid off the debt but it had made a sizable dent in how much he owed. Plus he didn’t have to worry so much about bills or grocery shopping and could even treat himself decently often without feeling like his debt will swallow him whole. 

 

As he tumbled into his car and threw his bag in the backseat he couldn’t help but feel as if someone was watching him, checking his mirrors as he turned his car on he looked for the culprit of the uneasiness, finding nothing he attempted to shrug it off and drove home with quiet music in the background of his thoughts. 

 

He arrived at his apartment in record time, still feeling off, his fingers trembled slightly as he struggled to unlock the door of his descent (by L.A. standards) apartment. He let out a sigh of relief as he finally got the door open and quickly slipped into his apartment, nearly slamming the door behind him. 

 

~ 

 

Ubereats was arguably his best friend. He sat at his couch chowing down in some chipotle and counting his money. At Desert Rose $1 we’re common currency but a $10 or a $20 wasn’t uncommon anything higher than that was unusual to unheard of and as Ryan approached the end of his modest stack of bills he saw something he had never seen before, two $100 bills neatly folded together. The money was crisp and Ryan could barely believe his eyes. 

 

His mind couldn’t help but wander to the feeling of a large hand on his side as it gracefully slipped an unknown sum of money into his waistband and the image of a too tall man in a dark suit fitted to perfection walking away from him with long strides. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is in way over his head and he doesn’t even know it yet.

“I’m very sorry sir but The Desert Rose doesn’t do private shows.” The tall man towered over the glorified receptionist who seemed to be shrinking into his chair. 

 

“You do now.” 

 

~ 

 

Steven ran up to Ryan when he came into work the next day.

 

“Ryan oh my god, did you hear that some guy paid like a bunch of money for a private show?” Ryan was disinterested at worst and mildly curious at best. 

 

“Yeah sure, but we don’t do private shows here, it’s in our contracts.” 

 

“I know that’s why it’s such a big deal!” He was beaming with excitement. “Whoever the guy requested is gonna get a huge bonus this month. God, I hope it’s me… could really use some new shoes…or a watch…or maybe...” He trailed off as his eyes glazed over thinking about all things he could spend that sweet, sweet cash on. 

 

“Wait, so you don’t know who it is?” 

 

“Nah man it’s just on today’s work schedule, look.” Ryan glanced at the slightly crumpled paper in Stevens' hand. Sure enough at 11:45 in big bolded letters it read: PRIVATE SHOW: PERFORMER TO BE ANNOUNCED. 

 

“What kind of money do you think it took to get them to go against our contracts? Whoever is performing could totally sue.” 

 

“Only if they’re crazy! Do you know how much money they’ll get from doing this, I mean a cut of whatever they  paid as well as hush money!” Ryan, well he was all for some extra cash, felt a little morally off. Sure the money would be great, but this goes directly against their contracts (which he read very carefully, just because he isn’t a lawyer that doesn’t mean he is stupid enough to not read the fine print). 

 

“Yeah I guess, but that’s not up to me, no one in their right mind would pay that much for me.” He felt a little disappointed thinking about it, he was good at his job but not that good. 

 

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, everyone knows your one of the best guys here.” With that Ryan just mumbles a small thanks. The conversation dies off and Steven said something about his set coming up soon and leaves. So Ryan slowly makes his way to his dressing room feeling unusually sorry for himself. 

 

All the sudden Brent burst into the room, startling a half-naked Ryan. 

 

“Hey Ryan, Sara wants to talk to you.” The words filled the empty air with tension when Brent left as soon as he came. Sara, what could she possibly want with Ryan, had he done something wrong? He didn’t think so, he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. 

 

He finished getting dressed as slowly as he could, bones weighted with dread. He then slowly walked from the dressing room to the end of the hallway where a slightly fancier door laid. 

 

Now don’t get Ryan wrong, Sara is a great boss, she’s kind, motivated, and always gives generous Christmas bonuses. Sara and Ryan were on good terms, not quite friends but he has a feeling that if she wasn’t his boss they would be a lot closer. Usually, her wanting to see someone was no big deal, often she’s just asking about schedules and new sets or ideas she has. But today felt different. 

 

The handle was cold in Ryan’s hand as he pushed the door open. Inside sat a serious Sara Rubin with a single sheet of paper facing towards the chair opposite her desk. 

 

“Ryan, hey, have a seat.” Silently he moved and sat in the mildly uncomfortable chair. “Now before we can start this meeting I need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement. To make sure the details of this meeting don’t leave this room.” She said it in a relaxed tone but Ryan could tell there was more underneath. 

 

“Uhh, I’m not sure if…” Ryan had always been cautious of legal paperwork and being asked to sign this without properly reading it first put him on edge. 

 

“Oh, I forgot how you are with paperwork, I can go over it with you if you want but we really have to get this meeting moving. I’ve got a busy day today.” Her tone, though it tried to be lighthearted and understanding felt forced. He could tell she was stressed. 

 

So against his better judgment, he picked up the pen sat gracefully next to the single sheet of paper and signed. 

 

“No need, I trust you.” That was halfway true. 

 

“Great, thank you for signing.” She paused for a second, figuring a way to string her words together. “So, as you may have noticed we have a private show today. And I’m sure you are aware that we don’t usually do private shows. However, this is, a tricky situation.” Ryan’s heart sank but Sara continued. “We have a client who is very determined to get a private show.  The reason I had you sign the NDA is that no one can know who the client is and I am aware that he might share that information with you and I need to make sure that you don’t tell anyone else. Now I’m sure you’ve already put two and two together but our client has  _ very _ specifically requested you.” Before she could continue he cut her off. 

 

“Private shows are against our contracts.” 

 

“Well, that’s true to an extent. Regularly they are, but in section three clause seven there is a loophole, we can discuss that later if you wish.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Yeah, sorry about that. But long story short I need you to create a new set and be ready to go by 11:45.” She went through a few more details but he wasn’t really listening

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Yeah, like I said, really sorry about this. But don’t worry you’ll be very handsomely rewarded and I won’t have you work floor for a week.” Ryan was never one for bribery but since he was being all but forced to do this he didn’t mind a few perks. 

 

He felt numb as he stood.  _ Who the fuck would pay that much for a private show. Who the fuck would pay that much for me?  _ Inside his head, Ryan was screaming, checking his phone he saw the time, 9:15. He has two and a half hours to create a complete set. 

  
  


~ 

 

He stood at the side of the stage waiting for his into. If he was being completely honest he had no clue what he was doing. His set was thrown together and sloppy, pre-show nerves were always pretty bad for Ryan because his entire life was fueled by anxiety. Right now he’s almost positive he’s going to throw up. 

 

The lights dim and his intro comes on.  _ Oh no, oh please god, no.  _

 

He forces himself to take his place on stage. In the silence, he hears the flick of a lighter and a small light illuminates the eternity of darkness between now and when the lights go up. He sees the fat end of a cigar flare to life just as the lights come up.  

 

_ Fuck _


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is clueless and Shane is moderately terrifying.

The thick cloud of smoke obscured his view, prohibiting him from getting a proper look at the man who rented him out for the night. He felt dirty just thinking about it, he didn’t care if other people did stuff like that but it just wasn’t for him. Ryan had hard boundaries and he did not like testing them. 

 

Attempting to put his morals aside he began to go through his sloppy routine. It was nothing like he practiced, he kept forgetting what was next and just making it up as he went, something Ryan never does. Plus he couldn’t even see the man’s face to get a gauge on what he likes. He had no bearings on how to satisfy a high stakes customer. He was a sailor lost at sea on a cloudy night, no stars were visible to guide him in the right direction. 

 

Ryan was just going through the motions, he knew it was a shit set and even though he knew he had to make Desert Rose look good but he couldn’t focus. The figure that sat directly in front of him was far too distracting. The air around him felt like the atmosphere right before a storm, on edge and powerful. It was both terrifying and thrilling. 

 

He could feel the eyes on him, sure he was used to it, being the center of attention, the object of some misguided fantasy. But it was never like this, this burning feeling, he felt as if he was being watched through a one-way mirror. The smoke reflecting his anxieties and insecurities back at him while they protected the identity of the figure on the other side of the veil.

 

If he watched closely he could see an almost too large hand studded with thick rings, the silver and gold contrasting with the deep ivory of his skin, dip a fat cigar into an ashtray before returning it to his mouth. It was mesmerizing in the most mundane way. The way that the rings reflect glints of colorful light back at Ryan. The difference between the gold and silver mixed in harmony on the same pallet of cool skin. 

 

Utterly distracted with the long-legged figure squared in front of him Ryan was startled back into reality by Sara’s small frame as she stood just inside the door. Though it didn’t quite make sense he felt as if she had walked in on something off limits, like there was something undeniable and intense happening between Ryan and the masked figure before him and she had intruded. 

 

Suddenly everything felt off like the lights were brighter and his clothes were tighter than usual, constructing around and suffocating him. He could pinpoint the issue as the large smokescreen of a man in front of him but the unusual discomfort was manifesting in strange ways. He had managed it before Sara came into the room but now he has two completely different audiences to please. And sure, he was uncomfortable with the whole situation, to begin with, but he was warming up to the idea. Warming up to a single pair of eyes that he couldn’t make out and the intensity of the audience of one. 

 

Letting his hips curl outwards as his hands gripped the pole in front of him. Knowing his ass looked great, he let his mind wander far from his routine and dangerously close to the man before him. 

 

While relatively short, the set felt long, long enough for the smoke to begin to soften around the edges. Just enough to where Ryan could begin to make out shadowy features. 

 

Pretty, he was very pretty. He was arguably one of the prettiest people Ryan had ever seen, in a slightly unconventional way. Which somehow only made him prettier to Ryan. Sure, Ryan saw his fair share of attractive people in his line of work but he had never seen anyone so enchanting.  

 

The clearer his features became the more Ryan realized that pretty wasn’t the word he should use to describe him but it’s the only word he wanted to use. His essence and aura were filled with intensity This was mostly because he could feel the power radiating off of him and the darkness of his hooded eyes seemed to hold unspoken dangers. It was overwhelming. 

 

The man's high eyebrows raised slightly as a subtle smirk played across his lips. He knew that Ryan was struggling to keep up his routine as he stared directly into the eyes of the prettiest man he had ever seen. He thought it was funny, and Ryan caught on quickly. Angering him slightly, because of course, the guy who puts him in an uncomfortable situation has to not only be the prettiest man he’s ever seen but he also is an observant dick. 

 

_ Well, fuck you too, Pretty Dick.  _  Ryan hadn’t really realized that he has just given him a nickname that meant more than one thing, he was just so caught up in both how pretty he was and how Ryan was convinced he was a dick. 

 

Ryan knew not to get caught up with clients, it’s messy and bad for business. He’s tried it before and knew to never cross that line again. The stigma surrounding strippers is toxic to a relationship. It leads to jealousy and mistrust, something he had learned first hand. 

 

Before he could get too far into his head Steven entered the nearly empty room. He holds delicately on a silver platter a glass of what seemed to be whiskey, or scotch, or bourbon, Ryan could never tell the difference (they were all brown and way too strong for Ryan’s taste). Whatever it was it was very on script for Pretty Dick from when Ryan had gathered. 

 

Steven was wearing what could only be considered as sinful (even though that was in the job description) yet as he approached, Pretty Dick never took his eyes off Ryan. There Steven was, a good looking guy standing mostly naked next to him with a glass of whatever the fuck Pretty Dick ordered and he wouldn’t take his eyes off Ryan. Ryan’s pretty sure that meant something, but he isn't quite sure what that something is. 

 

The glass is placed on the small table beside the large chair (that Ryan had no fucking clue where it came from because he’s been working here for nearly two years and has never seen it) and Steven quietly retreats, but not before he sends a few winks and suggestive motions Ryan’s way. Denying the urge flip him off Ryan tried to ignore him and finish his set in peace. 

 

He would never admit it but Steven calmed him down a little bit. He felt a little more grounded, more confident in his routine. Because even though he tries not to be a conceited asshole he damn well knows that he’s one of the best guys there. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why his lounge is so much more expensive than the others. And he was proud of that, really proud.

 

_ Who fucking cares if some creep wants a Private show, it doesn’t matter, he’s probably some asshole businessman living large while out of town. I’ll likely never see him again.  _ (Ryan would never admit it to himself but the thought of never seeing him again made his heart sink, just a little.)

 

His newfound confidence was good for his inner monologue, he had convinced himself that none of this matters, it’s just one night of his life, a good story to tell to his coworkers.  He was still a little uneasy about this whole situation but he didn’t care anymore. 

 

Ryan recognized the final beats of his setlist and began his outro, a wave of relief washing over him. Finally, he could be done, sure it hadn’t been longer than 15 minutes but it had felt like a lifetime. The intensity of it all made it seem so much longer. He just had to make it through a few more seconds and it was over. 

 

Leading into his signature closing the lights began to dim. Darkness was coming up around him and he wanted to take shelter in it, wear the dark as a blanket and never do any of this again. The last few flashes of near blinding light shown on him before fading out. 

 

He could still see Pretty Dick in his ominous leather chair, illuminated by the last few puffs of his cigar. The soft light casting long shadows over his face. Ryan didn’t look for long. Somewhere he was afraid he would be able to stop looking, that he would be stuck there, trapped by the beauty and 

 

Ryan turned to exit the stage, before he could take more than a step towards the exit the three words were spoken into the darkness, both gravel and satin hurtling through the now silent room towards Ryan. 

 

“Come here, baby” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is spooked and something doesn't add up.

“Come here, baby”

 

Taken off guard he stopped in place, nervously glancing towards the back of the room where he could see Sara just barely inside the doorway. She gave him a slight nod making it clear that he had to do what the man says.  _ But to what extent? I mean, do I have to bend over right here if he asks me?  _

 

A chill ran down his spine and he slowly made his way off the stage, lights suddenly brought back up, pulsing an array of color surrounding him in a dewy glow and towards whoever the entitled asshole in front of him was. 

 

“Closer baby.” He beckoned with the cigar still in hand, letting out a plume of toxic smoke. Ryan struggled not to choke on it and if he was being completely honest with himself it was kinda  _ hot _ but trying to not gag on the fumes was a little distracting. 

 

Stepping closer until he was positioned awkwardly in front of the well-dressed man. Never before had he been so aware of just how  _ naked _ he was. Sure he had on his ‘uniform’ but there wasn’t much to it considering he was a fucking stripper. 

 

Regardless of how exposed Ryan was feeling at the moment, the man made another small movement with his cigar and Ryan knew it meant,  _ closer _ . Ryan, not really sure how to get any closer he carefully climbed on top of the man's lap, legs expertly straddling him. Chests nearly touching he felt large hands graze over his skin before resting on his hips. His own arms were draped casually on the man's shoulders, hands rested on the base of his neck. 

 

“There you go.” The soft praise was whispered into the thick air between them. Ryan could feel the heat rising to his cheeks in a crimson blush.

 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck do I do? _

 

Ryan could feel the man's eyes drink in his body as if he were an oasis. However Ryan barely even realized this because all he could focus on was the two  _ very _ large hands on his hips. Their familiar warmth seemed to encase him in a feverish haze. The cool contrast of metal rings against his skin intoxicated him in a way he didn’t think was possible. 

 

The proximity of their faces sent Ryan through a whirlwind of emotions. Analyzing every detail of the Pretty Dicks face If Ryan thought he was pretty from afar he was beautiful now. Cool undertones dancing against his dark features made Ryan’s mind melt a little more than he would like to admit. 

  
  


His breathing was heavy from both his set and the insane amount of emotions flowing through his body at the moment. For some twisted reason Ryan’s brain, while enjoying the sensation of, well, everything that was happening at the moment decided to self-sabotage (or self-preservation, Ryan isn’t quite sure but at the moment it felt like sabotage) 

 

“You aren’t supposed to touch.” 

 

Something that looked like amusement flickers across Pretty Dicks face as well as a hint of surprise at Ryan’s small defiance, as if he had pinned him as a coward. Small doses of anger made their way through Ryan’s veins. 

 

“I think I may have paid enough to have that privilege, but I respect your wishes.” His voice echoes through Ryan’s head, it was slow and seductive, a sticky honey that dripped like soft venom from his lips. 

 

With that Ryan felt the dizzying sensation of hands placed gently on his hips disappear. Slightly disappointed, though he didn’t know when he expected when he told Pretty Dick not to touch him, he suddenly found it much easier to think 

 

_ Fuck, ok, cool, what now?  _

 

Just because he could now think clearly didn’t mean he had any helpful thoughts. The man in front of him reached towards the table next to him and brought the crystal glass of unidentifiable alcohol to his mouth and took a drink. His dark eyes fixated on Ryan’s. 

 

He then lifted the glass to Ryan’s lips, an offering Ryan wasn’t sure how to decline. So without breaking eye contact he slowly parted his lips around the rim and let the man tip the glass of honey-colored liquid into his mouth. Ryan let his eyes flutter close as the liquid burned its way down his throat. Barley suppressing the coughing fit that he so desperately wanted to let out Ryan scrunched up his face at the taste and sensation. The interaction was intimate in a way that Ryan hated to admit. 

 

A small smile played at his lips while he gently set the glass back on that table. If Ryan hadn’t been so damn close to his face he wasn’t sure if he would have noticed it. He could tell that in his own way the man was laughing at him and Ryan was suddenly feeling very defensive. As defensive as he was feeling he couldn’t help but admit that the moment they just shared had gone straight to his dick. Shifting uncomfortably on the man's lap to try to hide this fact, the blush that was beginning to subside rekindled on his cheeks. 

 

The cigar smoke must have gone to his head but that point because the sexiest thing he could think to say at that moment was 

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“C.C. Tinsley-“

 

“No, it’s not” Ryan cut him off before he could get any further. “C.C. Tinsley was the P.I. that the Sodder family hired to search for their missing children. He disappeared while looking for Louis Sodder, the youngest Sodder child, in Kentucky.” Ryan stopped himself, he wanted desperately to continue and tell the man before him claiming to be C.C. all the little facts and details of the case and how he couldn’t be C.C. Tinsley. Cold cases and murders are kind of his thing, but it was unprofessional and a rude. His mind had already started going into all the theories of why ‘C.C.’ would lie to him about his identity, then he remembers where he his and what he does for a living. Many people come in and out of the doors of the Desert Rose wishing to be anonymous. 

 

_ Oh boy, that… that was a mistake. I can’t just go blowing the cover of someone who clearly doesn’t want me to know who they are.  _

 

C.C. remained silent, Ryan desperately wished he would say something, to tell him off for being unprofessional. To say anything would be a blessing. C.C. just looked at him, as if he was trying to navigate Ryan featured in order to articulate a response. 

 

They both broke the too long silence at the same time. 

 

“Sorry, that was unprofessional and-“ 

 

“You are dismissed.” The sultry softness in his voice completely disappeared and hardened into stone. 

 

Their words jumbled together not letting Ryan take in the full meaning of what C.C. had said. 

 

“Wait, what?” Ryan spoke, yet again, unprofessionally.  

 

“You are dismissed, you can go. I’m done with you.” A fowl bitterness had crept into his tone. Ryan couldn’t help but be off-put by the way he said: “I’m done with you.” It was like he was an object, something he had rented for the night. And sure, being a stripper that’s kind of what happened but it didn’t make Ryan feel any better. He was used to being objectified but it stung a little bit more coming from C.C., and he couldn’t figure out why.  

 

Both hurt and relieved Ryan climbed off C.C.’s lap and started his walk of shame to the dressing rooms. He heard a voice behind him, it wasn’t raised or yelling in any way but it harshly projected itself throughout the quiet room. 

 

“I figured you value your privacy as much as I do,  _ Ricky _ . One shouldn’t be so hasty to expose others when they too have something to hide.” It felt vaguely like a threat but Ryan wasn’t sure what he was threatening. 

 

Embarrassed he kept his head forward and tried not to think about it too hard, which for him was near impossible, but it was a valiant effort. 

 

Once he got to the dressing rooms Steven rushed towards him bouncing with excitement. 

 

“So? How’d it go?” 

 

“It was a goddamn disaster.” 

 

“Hey I mean it couldn’t have been that bad. When I had to bring him his drink your set looked amazing. Some good stuff up there bro.” Stevens words were calming and were able to slightly comfort Ryan. 

 

“I don’t know man. I’m just glad it’s over and I never have to do that again.” He felt off, his skin stretched too tightly across his body. He wanted a shower and a nap. Sensing something was off Steven let him be. 

 

“I gotta go on in 10 but you were great up there, and I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think. I’ll see you tomorrow man, have a good one.” With that, he left the room, slightly less bouncy than he was before.  

 

Ryan got changed and clocked out, desperately avoiding Sara. He knew she saw what happened and he wasn’t in the mood to be scolded for it. He left through the back door in order to avoid any further interactions. 

 

The night air was colder than he expected, calming the last of his nerves as he made his way towards his car. He hadn’t gotten more than ten steps away when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning there is some violence in here so if that’s a trigger for you skip to the middle/end of the chapter

The grip on his shoulder was vice-like. Fingertips digging into his skin that would surely bruise the next day. Fear flows steadily through his bloodstreams, stemming from the grip on his shoulder like roots through his body.

 

“Where are you headed, darling? I’d hate to see a boy as pretty boy as you get lost.” The voice was cold and full of gravel as his words slipped drunkenly from his lips. Frozen in time Ryan wasn’t sure what to do, he was used to being approached outside of work, used to the comments thrown his way but no one has ever gotten physical with him. Not like this. There’s usually security around the back doors where Ryan came out of but they were nowhere to be seen. The man became quickly aggravated at Ryan’s silence “Don’t you fucking ignore me,”

 

Ryan’s body lurched forward, a soft grunt leaving his lips as the man behind him shoved him away. “You think it’s fucking funny? Huh? You think I’m some big joke? Well, I’m not!” His body was pushed up against the wall, his back pressing into the cold exterior.

 

Terror ran through his core as Ryan viewed the man's face. He was big, taller than Ryan by at least half a foot, towering over him, red in the face. His body was thick and burly, eyes bloodshot from his nightly activities.

 

Ryan was a strong guy, he liked to workout and did some CrossFit here and there but he felt so incredibly small compared to the man.

 

“No-no, I don’t think it’s funny.” Ryan felt his voice wavering as he spoke. Trying to keep calm and not anger the man in front of him. He was shaking and he could feel it, the fear completely immobilizing him.

 

“Good, I would hate for a pretty face like yours to get all banged up because you made me mad. Hmm… is that what you want? Do you want me to rough you up a little bit? Huh? Is that what you like? You like it rough?”

 

The man's body pressed up against Ryan’s, cornering him. His weight suffocating Ryan.

 

“Please just let me go, I-“ He was cut off by thick, menacing laughter pressed tightly to his ear. The soft pain of teeth against his earlobe, scruff scratching against his own and an unwanted mouth trailing its way down Ryan’s neck. Uninvited hands trailing up his sides, one hand slipping under his shirt as the other dipping lower and lower. Fingers grazing his waistband.

 

Then suddenly the sensation was gone. The weight of the other man missing from Ryan’s chest.

 

“Get the fuck off him.” The deep, but much more comforting and painstakingly familiar voice drifted through his mind. Not really registering with the shock.

 

The two figures stumbled for a moment before one wrestled the other to the ground and thankfully, away from him. The tall lanky figure somehow ended up perched on top of Ryan’s attacker. Ryan’s head seemed to be filled with fog, as he didn’t really register what was happening in front of him. He felt like he was wading through a pool of molasses as his brain tried to comprehend what was happening.

 

“What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. You.” Each word was punctuated with a strong blow to the face of Ryan’s attacker. With one hand clutching the shirt of his attacker C., C. held him down as he delivered the hits. A sickening crack could be heard as a nose was broken, blood sliding down the face of Ryan’s attacker, staining C. C.’s hand.

 

All too late his brain caught up with the situation unraveling before his eyes.

 

“C.C.! Stop!” C.C didn’t seem to hear Ryan’s screams “you’re going to kill him! Stop it!” Ryan lunged forward and somehow managed to catch C.C.’s arm before it could make contact with his attackers now unresponsive face.

 

There was a moment of silence as C.C. gazed upon the damage he had done. The then slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Ryan’s. He stood, towering over the body on the ground like something out of Ryan’s nightmares. He was suddenly very aware of everything that had just happened, his mind started to run through the possibilities of what could have happened.

 

Large hands gently rested against his cheeks, fingers gently brushed under his eyes, wiping away the streams of tears that had begun to build up. He was so fucking scared he didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

“Come here.” The words bounced around his head, they were nothing like they had been earlier in the night. Now instead of being demanding and filled with lust they were airy and soft, nearly pleading. His body language was open and welcoming unlike his stick straight posture and unwavering facial expressions that Ryan experienced before.

 

Despite his better judgment, Ryan let himself collapse into the taller man's arms. No words were spoken between them as long steady arms wrapped around Ryan’s waist, pulling him close, protecting him. It felt good, it felt so, so good. Slowly his breathing synced up with the relaxed rhythm of the body that held him so close. The way that Ryan’s head rested on C.C.’s chest felt natural, it felt like coming home (Ryan tried to ignore this feeling but he wasn’t very good at it. In fact, he had been trying  to ignore a lot of feelings that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with.)

 

With a jolt, he, suddenly realized where he was and who he was with. Who was holding him, who was comforting him. Ryan was disgusted. Pushing the larger man off him he tried to take a few steps back but was stopped when he felt his back hit the wall.

 

“You okay?” There was something painfully soft in his eyes, softer than he ever would have expected.  His hands having forcibly unraveled from Ryan’s waist now gently rested on his wrists, the fabric of Ryan’s jacket running gently in between Shanes' fingers.

 

“No! I’m not fucking okay! I was just attacked by some drunk asshole. And you-you you fucking beat him up.” His words grew louder and angrier the longer he spoke.

 

“Ricky, hey, baby shh. I need you to calm down, okay? You’re okay now it’s all...”  He kept talking but Ryan had stopped listening. He looked down to where foreign hands rested. He saw red all over them, blood dripping from his knuckles down his long fingers that were wrapped so carefully around his wrists. He didn’t like it, it felt invasive and overwhelming. Yet he didn’t pull away.

 

There was a small line of blood trickling down from his swelling lip. Ryan had the repulsive urge to wipe it away. The image of him slowly running his thumb across C.C’s lip, his palm softly cupping his jaw, the feeling of new, rough, stubble running across the smooth pads of his fingers fogged his mind. He could smell the aftershave and blood mingled together on his skin and goddamn was it sinful.

 

It was overwhelming, everything was all too much. There was a guy beaten bloody laying passed out on the ground behind him. A stranger whose lanky body was somehow able to beat the much larger guy until he was an unconscious bloody mess held him carefully in his arms. Ryan felt sick. He was so goddamn scared and so goddamn angry he didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

“No! Don’t fucking touch me!” He ripped his wrists out of C.C’s grasp. “You’re fucking psychotic! Who the fuck do you think you are? Just beating men up behind strip clubs and fucking bribing people for private shows like some pervert and… and…” Ryan had more to say but the look in the eyes of the man standing across from him made his words trail off. He couldn’t describe it, both terrifying and alluring.

 

Moments passed before either of them spoke up.

 

“Shane.”

 

“What?”

 

“You asked who I thought I was. I’m Shane, that’s my real name.”

 

“Oh.” there wasn’t much else to say. Ryan felt like Shane was telling the truth about his name but how could he know? Shane had lied before.

 

A grunt erupted from the mostly silent body of his attacker. Unable to control his actions he reached up and tightly gripped Shane’s wrist, shrinking behind him slightly as he turned to look at the body on the ground that was slowly regaining consciousness.

 

“Come on, let me take you home. I have a driver waiting for me around front.” His words were still soft but now they were more composed, they felt slightly stiff like Shane was nervous he was about to be caught doing something wrong.

 

“Okay.” Ryan had answered before he could even think about what he was saying, what he was agreeing to. He just wanted to get out of there, he didn’t care about how he was going to get his car home or what he was going to do about work in the morning, he just wanted to get out of there.  He wanted so desperately to get away from everything that had happened he didn’t care who he was with. And sure, he’s a pretty cautious guy regularly but tonight he couldn’t even fathom driving himself home to an empty house. And somehow, everything about Shane just felt _right_. He felt unbearably natural to Ryan and even though he was so confusing and weird and infuriatingly mysterious he felt like he was supposed to be in Ryan’s life. Whatever that means. He didn’t have it in him to think about it any further, he let the thoughts fade into the background, a problem for another day.

 

Somehow as they carefully maneuvered around Ryan’s attacker his hand shifted from ticketless clutching Shane’s wrist to intertwining his. An expensive car of some sort was pulled in front of the back alley entrance. Shane guided him towards it before opening the door for him to climb inside.

 

As soon as the both of them were safely inside the driver sped off into the night. They sat in silence for a little while, fingers lightly intertwined, before Ryan spoke into the darkness.

 

“Shane?” The name was new on his lips, but it felt ancient. Somehow it felt like he had been written in the stars but Ryan ignored the feeling. It’s just a name.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“My real names Ryan,” he pauses before continuing “I just… I thought I should tell you because you told me your real name.”

 

“I know,”

 

“Oh” again, there wasn’t much else for him to say, too exhausted to pry and too nervous about what kind of answer he would get if he questioned further he let it go.

 

A few more minutes passed before they As they pulled up to his apartment building Ryan realized he never gave the driver his address. He really should have been more concerned that he was. He couldn’t bring himself to care because he knew that his apartment was dark and empty. He knew that he would have to get in the elevator alone, unlock his door alone, and deep alone. He didn’t like that one bit.

 

“Hey, Shane?”

 

“Yes, Ryan?”

 

“I uhm, I don’t wanna be alone…” the unsure statement, left open-ended, up to interpretation and Ryan wasn’t sure what he wanted.

 

“Are you sure?” The words were hesitant, cautious of Ryan’s vulnerable state.

 

“Yeah.” Shane nodded in response, leaning forward he mumbled a few words to the driver that Ryan didn’t care enough to pay attention to.

 

They climbed out of the overly expensive car and were basking in the glow of a single street lamp outside of Ryan’s apartment. It wasn’t a great place but it wasn’t the worst either. It fit Ryan, small and homey. He liked it too much to consider moving, even though he knew he would have to someday sooner than he would like.

 

He suddenly felt very self-conscious about bringing the man beside him into his home, maybe this was a big mistake.

 

Ryan decided this was definitely a mistake. What the hell did he even want Shane to do? Sleep on the couch while he lays emotionless in his bed? Watch him brush his teeth like some creep? Jesus Christ the guy was a goddamn perv, an entitled jackass and Ryan invited him into his home. This is so fucked, all of it, so fucking stupid.

 

But what the hell was he supposed to do now? Say sike and send him home? That’s just rude. He had made his choice and now he’s going to stick to it. (Never mind the fact that Shane is insanely attractive and tall in a non-threatening way

 

“Hey, you ready to go in?” Softness poured from Shane’s tone when he spoke, careful with his words like he had spent years selecting the simple phrase.

 

Ryan nodded, not having the energy to form a proper response. He felt his hand once again be enveloped in a much larger one, comfort stemmed from the touch and slowly spread through the rest of his body, he felt almost at ease.

 

His grip was loose, careful not to put too much pressure on Shane’s aching hands. As they enter his apartment he became painfully aware of the discomfort Shane must be in, and how there were red flakes on his own hand, rubbing off on contact.

 

“Come on, I’ll clean you up, it’s the least I can do”

Leading Shane towards his kitchen he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink. Pulling himself up onto the counter to be at a comfortable level for the both of them he opened the kit and pulled out a cleansing wipe, healing ointment, and some gauze.

 

Taking Shane’s much larger hand in his he ran the wood around his knuckles, down his fingers, and around the back of his hand. Cleaning off any excess blood, whether it was Shane’s or the other man's he was unsure. But he wanted it gone.

 

Something very vulnerable went into his actions, something almost unbearable raw. The way Shane’s long fingers and delicate wrists overflow the smaller palm of Ryan’s masculine hands. The way his fingers wrapped around Ryan’s to expose his knuckles. The way Ryan’s thumb gently ran up and down Shane’s fingers without him realizing the comforting action.

as Ryan carefully wiped away the gore on his knuckles.

 

Shane was humoring him, and in a way, Ryan knew it. He knows damn well that Shane could just wash his hands with antibacterial soap and he’d be fine, he knows that Shane has probably gotten much worse, judging by the faint scar tissue surrounding the clean parts of his knuckles.

 

Ryan couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. It may have been because of Shane’s finely tuned gaze on his actions, or the way his aftershave smelled, or maybe it was the intoxicating aura he radiated.

 

Carefully and without irritating the injured flesh Ryan applied the healing ointment, following the action by wrapping the startlingly white and sterile gauze around the circumference of his hand.

 

With the thin, and mostly unnecessary layer of gauze around his knuckles Ryan turned Shane’s hand over, admiring his work before carefully shifting his gaze upwards towards the intense gaze of the much taller man. When their eyes met Ryan felt the air leave his lungs. Shane had that look in his eyes again, filled with cool intensity and an unbearable yearning for something that he couldn’t quite figure out.

 

Attempting to ignore it Ryan lifted the cleansing wipe to Shane’s lip. One hand rested on his jaw to steady his head while the other slowly and carefully drags the wipe across his bottom lip. When he was finished he slowly took his hand away from Shane’s mouth, the other still gently rested on his jaw.

 

Shane’s gaze slowly descended until fixing itself on Ryan’s lips. Unconsciously Ryan leaned slightly forewords as Shane lowered his face towards Ryan. He could feel Shane’s lips ghost over his in a not quite kiss. It felt as if Shane was asking permission, letting Ryan take the lead.

 

Without warning his head cleared and his thoughts became painfully sober.

 

 _He_ _just_ _wants_ _to_ _fuck_ _me_ , _that’s_ _the_ _only_ _reason_ _he’s_ _here_. _Ryan_ _you_ _goddamn_ _idiot_.

He pushed away from Shane before speaking.

“This was a mistake. I don’t know why I let you come up here with me. I’m-I’m sorry. I need you to leave. This is a stupid idea.”

 

“Okay.” Taking a step away from Ryan, from his shitshow of emotions and vulnerability. 

 

Beside himself, Ryan watches the look on the tall man's face transform from the gentle gaze to the steely scowl he’d been accustomed to before this confusing encounter.

 

He turned around a made his way towards the door. Stopping with his hand rested on the handle.

 

“I’ll be seeing you soon,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, sorry I’ve been so shitty about updates
> 
> Please kudo or comment, it means to much to creators to get feedback on our work 
> 
> Love you guys


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small tw, there's some talk about minimal nonconsensual touching but nothing actually happens. So be safe reading! 
> 
> love you  
> xx

Softly clicking into place, the door shut, concealing the daunting figure, so close to him mere moments before. 

 

Ryan sat there, unmoving and unsure of what to do with himself, what to do with the soft words spoken into the still air of his apartment, or the butterflies in his stomach, lovesick nausea swelling from his entire being. 

 

He fell silent for a few moments, sitting cluelessly on his kitchen counter. 

 

“Oh my god.” He spoke into the empty apartment, his voice just above a whisper. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. He was going to kiss me! He was going to.. he was. Oh my god, Ryan what the fuck” fiery panic rose in his chest blooming across his entire body. “Fuck _ ,  _ What the fuck _ ,  _ Ryan what the fuck is wrong with you… you just, you fucking, invite him into your home, like a dumbass, like an absolute idiot. Because why? Because you’re feeling vulnerable? What the fuck Ryan! Jesus Christ! You stupid  _ bitch _ ! How are you going to go to work now? Oh my god, you have to run away, you can never come back here, it’s over, your life is over. He knows where you live.”

 

A small voice in the back of his head gently reminded him that Shane had saved him earlier in the night, that Shane, to this point, always respected Ryan and never pushed past his limits. And many he isn’t  _ that  _ bad. 

 

He ignored that last part.

 

“Okay so maybe you don’t have to run away. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But whatever, this is still not good. Not good at all.” 

 

Silence overtook him once more as he tried to dissect the tragedy of his life. Ultimately giving up if solving his problems he went to bed hoping the morning would bring clarity, but probably not. 

 

-

 

As he awoke a few moments of ignorant bliss cloud his mind before the events of the previous night come crashing upon his consciousness. Regret flooding his mind as he rolls over, burying his face in his soft pillows. 

 

He didn’t feel like himself. He felt like an imposter, his skin bathed in the mid-morning light felt stretched too tightly across his muscular frame. 

 

He felt sick as he began to relive the events of the previous night. The sensation of unknown hands against his skin, terrifying words whispered into his ear. Contrasted with the relief of being saved, different, the comforting sensation of Shane’s hand intertwined with his own, soft words whispered into the steady air around the two of them. 

 

The intimacy of it was too much, all too much, he didn't know how or what to feel. 

 

In all his years of working for Desert Rose, he had encountered a few unsavory situations but nothing felt like last night. The helplessness of it all. Security had always intervened before anything could happen before the situation could escalate. But where were they? Why did it have to be Shane to save Ryan? 

 

Ryan called in sick to work that day, he could barely get out of bed and the last thing he wanted to do was go back to work, go back to where the trouble began, to where all his worries waited for him. Here at his house he could lay in a cocoon of blankets and pretend that the world outside didn’t exist. 

 

~

 

The bliss of isolation didn't last for long, a day later he forced himself to get ready and go to work. 

 

Headed out the door, he stops in his tracks. He was sure  Shane’s driver had taken him home and his car was still in the Desert Rose parking lot. However, his little silver Prius sat in its reserved spot outside of his apartment. How his car had gotten there wasn’t something he had the energy to focus on. He knew that Shane had something to do with it, which was concerning. Regardless, Ryan was grateful he knew it was better to let it be. 

 

Pulling into the private parking lot for the dancers he silently pleas for today to be uneventful. He just wanted to run his sets and go home, he couldn't handle another emotionally taxing day. He didn’t even have to work floor, Sara had blissfully taken that off his work schedule as promised. All he had to was run a few different sets that he had committed to memory and not cause trouble.

 

It’s a quiet night, nothing out of the ordinary, no private shows or floor work, Ryan was able to relax in the dressing rooms until his scheduled sets came up. It was easy and simple and just what Ryan needed the day to be. It's an easy routine and Ryan uses it as a safety net. Nothing out of the ordinary happens as the sun begins to sink in the sky and the floor begins to take a new life. Expensive men in thousand dollar shoes hoping their wives don't find out where they are sink into the low light and enjoy the company they pay so much for. 

 

It used to disgust Ryan, when he was just getting started in the industry, working in less savory establishments where the back rooms were used for much more than just a private show. He remembers the feeling of being trapped in those rooms, a heavy curtain being the only thing that separates him and his client from the safety of others. Not that the presence of any of the other patrons of dancers offered any real comfort. 

 

More than once he almost quit, two weeks notice tucked in his work bag ready to hand in at any time. But every time he was ready to commit to letting his prime source of income go a notice from his bank would show up in his small stack of bills. Sometimes they were asking him to pay his loans back, other times they were telling him his account was overdrawn and they were adding a fifty dollar fee. Like they honestly thought he could give them the money when they could clearly see his near negative balance. 

 

At times like that he felt almost grateful for the wandering hands and greasy smiles. Sure, he looked for other jobs but none of them paid as well or as quickly. Plus he’s always had dancer hips and killer rhythm. 

 

Regardless, Ryan used to go home every night feeling sick to his stomach, making sure to take care of the occasional bruises from clients that got a little too handsy and get ready for class. It wasn’t a life he liked but it was a life that kept the bills paid and his cupboards stocked. It was a life he was good at. 

 

Sometimes he found himself enjoying his job, the parts where he just got to be on stage and dance and feel  _ wanted _ . He had grown up skipping school so that he could go to the shitty studio three blocks down from his house and just practice for hours on end. 

 

Sure this wasn't his favorite type of dancing but it was dance and he loved it all the same. He often thought that he could really love his job if he could just work somewhere a little nicer, a little further from the darkest parts of town. 

 

One night he was working the floor when he was approached, he thought it was just another client so he turned on his charms. Though he should have known by his watch that he was more than just a client. Taken aback when a business card was thrown in his face rather than a five dollar bill. He was extended a job offer for the Desert Rose, he didn’t even know places like that had recruiters or that they would be interested in him. 

 

So he visited the place, met the other dancers and talked to Sara for the first time. He went home with a contract in his hand and the promise of if he signed it that he wouldn’t have to deal with slimy men spending the last of their child support money on him. He wouldn't have to deal with the bruises or the clients that like to go a little further than what they had paid for (Ryan was a strong guy though, even back then, and he knows how to take care of himself.)

 

That night he read the contract over and over again, too good to be true. Why would a place like that want him, of all the strippers in LA they wanted him. It felt good. He felt like maybe at Desert Rose he could enjoy his job. They also paid more, a lot more. They had a security detail that made Ryan feel safe rather than trapped inside a labyrinth with too many hands and greasy smiles. And their clients had plenty of money to throw away on pretty boys. 

 

So he took the job. It was the best career choice he’d ever made. He now owned forty dollar foundation that he didn't have to waste on covering up the bruises that looked too much like had prints to be brushed off as him being clumsy. He had a gym membership to one of the nice LA gyms with a sauna, three pools, and a little cafe, he even saved up and got his own little Prius that he loved to the end of the world. His apartment was in a nicer part of town and he had potted plants on the window sill. Sure sometimes money was a little tight and he couldn’t buy himself that new pair of sneakers he had been eyeing but he was happy and he was comfortable.

  
  
  


~

 

A week passes, then two, quickly turning into three. No sign of Shane. Ryan often finds his mind wandering somehow always landing on thoughts of his tall frame, how gently he held his hand in the backseat of his car. The softness in his eyes as Ryan sat on the counter cleaning his wounds.

 

When he was with clients he often thought of how his large hands felt wrapped around his waist, how he let Shane touch him. How cold his rings felt against his skin, coupled with the warmth of his hands. He never lets the clients touch him, but with Shane he hadn’t minded. His hands were soft and warm and felt something like coming home. Shane felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for a strong gust of wind to either pull you over the ledge or push you back to safety. 

 

He didn’t like how often he thought of Shane, he didn’t like it at all, it was confusing and distracting and not something that Ryan should be thinking about. 

 

~

 

He feels Shane’s presence before he sees him. Feels his eyes on him as he sits in a dark corner in an even darker suit, once again designed and tailored to perfection. Ryan feels his heart flutter uncomfortably in his chest. It’s unwelcome and takes him by surprise. Naturally, he ignores the feeling and Shane in favor of focusing on his actual job with actual clients. 

 

He continues like this for an uncomfortable amount of time. Shooting quick side-eyed glances towards Shane whenever he thinks he can go unnoticed. Each and every time he sees that Shane is in the same position, a glass that never seems to empty of its honey-colored liquid, each and every time he meets Shane’s hooded gaze and quickly looks away. 

 

It’s not until he’s about to head back from floor to get ready for his next set that Shane actually approaches him. He’s making his way down a deserted hallway when he feels a large hand grip his wrist, spinning him around gently.  

 

It amazes Ryan how daunting and assertive Shane is while still being almost painfully careful in the way he handles Ryan. 

 

Softly he pushes Ryans smaller, but far more muscular frame flush against the wall. Caging him in with his arms. They both know Ryan could easily overpower him. A small gasp falls from his lips.

 

“I don’t like it when you do that.” Shane is the first to speak. 

 

“Do what?” 

 

“Spend time with those other men. Don’t like it when you let them look at you like that.” There’s an edge to his voice that sounds a lot like jealousy. Ryan ignores it.

 

“It’s my job, Shane.” His tone is tired, a small sigh accompanying the words.

 

“I know, I still don't like it.” 

 

“I don't care if you like it or not, I'm not your personal little plaything.” Anger starts to flow through him, a dull simmer that he can feel slowly beginning to build. Shane lets out a low noncommittal hum in response as if he doesn’t truly buy into the sentiment. Pocketing his anger before he can do something stupid, Ryan speaks again. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

 

“Miss me?”

 

“As if.” Ryan scoffs, words coming out a little harsher than he meant, crossing the line between banter and being rude.

 

Strained silence falls between them. Ryan becomes unbearable aware of the way one of Shanes' arms is stationed against the wall by his head, rings glinting in the overflow of soft neon into the hallway from one of the main rooms. Thick lines of black ink peek out from underneath the cuff of his suit. Ryan had never noticed before, he admires how the ink looks on Shanes pale skin. The contrast making the darkness seem more vibrant. Shane's other hand still wrapped around his wrist, gently pinned to the wall on the other side of his head.  

  
  


The rest of Shane's body was close, close enough for Ryan to feel their thighs ghost against each other. Without realizing it Ryans hand that lay limp by his side comes to rest on Shane's chest as if he were to push him away. He doesn’t. It felt good, so good. He hates it. 

 

The silence is broken by Shane's voice.

 

“Go on a date with me.”

 

“No.” Ryan surprises them both with his quick firm statement. Almost as if rejecting Shane was more of a reflex than something he actually meant. 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because you’re a client and because I don’t know you.” 

 

“That’s why we should go on a date, so you can get to know me.”  Ryan didn’t respond, of course, that’s the part Shane focuses on. He instead rolls his eyes and looked anywhere but Shane. Eyes landing on the nearly indistinguishable seems of his suit. It’s Dior. “I’ll tell you what, on Saturday night, let say, 7:00?, I’ll arrange a car for you. It’ll be outside of your place until 8:00 waiting to take you to me. I’ll be waiting for you somewhere nice, somewhere expensive. It’s up to you on whether you want to get in the car or not. I won’t try to persuade you either way. Completely your choice. And if you don’t come to me then I won’t bother you again, no hard feelings. How does that sound, _doll_?”

 

“Don’t call me that, I’m not your doll. And I don’t want your dumb car outside of my apartment. I don’t want to go on a date with you.” It felt like a lie as the words left his lips. He wasn't sure how that made him feel. 

 

“The choice is yours _petal_ , but there will be a car outside of your apartment at 7:00pm on Saturday night.” Dominance echoes through his tone, Ryan knows better than to argue further. The pet name rings in Ryan’s ears, sending a shiver down his spine. He had always been a sucker for pet names, but Shane didn't need to know that. 

 

Sensing Ryan’s submission Shane withdrew himself. The cold absence left Ryan longing for more. Though he would never admit it. The interaction felt somewhat underwhelming yet entirely too much at the same time.

 

“Oh, and if you do come, wear something pretty for me will you?” 

 

He pulls a fat cigar from his breast pocket and artfully lights it. Taking a long drag he then let’s a river of smoke flowing languidly from his lips. (It’s kind of gross and also kind of redicously hot). All the while he maintain firm eye contact, all bedroom eyes with honey hues and it burns Ryan, it feels like Shane had taken the end of his cigar and somehow smothered his entire body with it. With that, Shane pivots on his heel and walked away from Ryan Neon lights cascading across his broad shoulders and ivory skin, a myriad of sultry colors in the half-lit hallway. 

 

Ryan wonders what Shane would look like if their roles were reversed if it was Shane every night mostly naked and under the neon glow. If it was his body, all fishnets and long legs, writhing upon a stage for the pleasure of others. 

 

He thinks about Shane his entire set and maybe he realizes that he isn’t as immune to Shane as he was forcing himself to believe. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading please leave a kudo or comment! This chapter felts underwhelming and a little tough to write. I felt like I couldn't get the descriptions right. 
> 
> Please let me know if you spot any mistakes and I'll be sure to fix them! 
> 
> Thanks again!!  
> xx


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